Fancy An Outing Fair One

The deputy stepped out from the dirtplace, heading toward a stream. He lowered his face, taking a long drink from the warm water. It tickled his whiskers, and didn't taste as cool and refreshing as the main river that fed RiverClan's territory. Even so, it soothed his sore throat. The cat turned his eyes skyward, blinking at the sunlight. Greenleaf may be scorching, but at least his clan had water to soothe the ache. He dreaded the coming moons when the weather grows cold. Prey is harder to find, and fish are most often locked away under ice. It's times like that when the tom was thankful for the heat on his black and white fur.

After a second long drink, the deputy headed back to camp. It was time to announce the evening patrols. Standing by the center of the clearing, he waved a warrior over with his tail and gave her the task of selecting two other warriors to accompany her. She nodded and padded off toward the warrior den. Satisfied, his eyes scanned the medicine den. Heronflight was doing wonders for RiverClan, and they were lucky to have his skills. Idly, Blacktail wondered how Redstorm and Wolfeye were coming along. He'd held true to his decision not to put either cat on a patrol. If they decided to leave camp, it was by their choice. If any cat deserved a chance to rest up, it was the brave cats who went to fight the beavers nearly a moon ago.

Chatter caught his attention. Blacktail turned to watch the warrior he'd selected head away from the island with a warrior flanking her on each side. He smiled, feeling a surge of pride at his warriors. When the three disappeared from his sight, rounding a tree, he padded toward the fresh kill pile. The smell of warm prey filled his nose, and he nearly took a mouse for himself before remembering that he'd already eaten early that evening. Instead, he dabbed a paw at the pile, moving the food around for a moment until he unearthed a sparrow that immediately stunk up the air. Curling his lip, he hooked into the feathered body and pulled it away from the rest. Dragging it out of camp, he buried it. Seeing prey go to waste like that made him grumpy, and he grumbled about picky eaters all the way back into the clearing. Though, when he noticed Wolfeye's pretty blue-gray fur, his sour mood was quickly forgotten. Lifting his tail high in the air, the deputy padded over to the warrior. Dipping his head, he meowed to her, "hey, Wolfeye. Your leg is looking strong today."